


Pain Is the Key to All Windows

by shalako



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Implied Past Abuse, M/M, Rough Sex, implied past noncon, not really noncon but close enough that i felt i should warn for it anyway, unintentional harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-11-26
Packaged: 2019-02-06 22:19:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12827292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shalako/pseuds/shalako
Summary: Archie is a little too rough during sex.





	Pain Is the Key to All Windows

**Author's Note:**

> Clearing out all my Google Docs. This is...literally...the OLDEST Golden Cricket fic I have. It's the first one I ever wrote, and I never posted it because I had so much difficulty finishing it. It's grown over the past few years from a few pararaphs to five excruciating pages. I went whole years between working on this, never really thought I'd post it. But yeah, here it is.

Mr. Gold’s face is pinched as Archie slams into him; on the next three thrusts, a wrinkle appears in his nose and he shifts his gaze from the ceiling to the wall at his right. He focuses on the wallpaper -- the faded pink flowers on the wall, set against dark reds and browns, homey, comforting. There had never been wallpaper on any of the homes Gold stayed in as a child. Plain drywall was more common, and bare wooden boards with holes letting light in through them, yes. But not wallpaper.

Archie thrusts again and Gold tries not to wince; everything feels tight and dry and painful to him, and he doesn’t understand why Archie isn’t stopping. Surely the other man notices how difficult this is? He can’t be getting any pleasure out of it, Gold thinks, but the thrusts go on, hard and fast, clumsy.

He should say something. He knows it; even as he stares at the wallpaper and lets his mind drift away, that thought is needling at him, faint but present. He should say something -- Archie will stop if he knows he’s hurting him, Archie would  _ want _ to know, would  _ want _ to be stopped, but every time Gold convinces himself to open his mouth, there’s a lump in his throat, and the words just die away.

He clenches his hands in the bedsheets, cranes his neck, and stares at the wall.

* * *

Archie thrusts in, his legs shaking with tension. His head is bowed, but he sees it when Gold’s hips jerk away from him in a flinch. In the next moment, Gold’s hands are pressed firmly against Archie’s chest, keeping him away.

Archie stills completely, his eyes wide, his thoughts frozen. He looks down at Gold; the other man releases a slow, trembling breath and keeps his eyes somewhere to the side.

Slowly, carefully, Archie pulls out and draws away. He sits on his haunches on the mattress, and Gold pulls his knees up between them, scoots back so he’s resting against the headboard, sitting up.

“It hurts,” Gold says, as though he hasn’t registered yet that Archie is no longer inside him. Archie’s heart constricts painfully; he tries to swallow down the sudden tightness in his throat.

“I’m sorry,” he says, face burning. “I should’ve realized -- I was going too hard. Are you OK now?”

Gold nods, but he still pulls away, swings his legs over the side of the bed and reaches for his cane. 

“Where are you going?” Archie asks, but Gold doesn’t answer. He walks silently to the bathroom and shuts the door behind him. Archie hears the lock click in place. He sits on the bed, alone, lost in how completely this moment has been derailed.

God, he’s ruined everything. He let his excitement get the better of him -- how the fuck could he have gone so long without noticing Gold was uncomfortable? He was a therapist, for God’s sake, he prided himself on knowing what people were feeling. And everything had been going so well tonight. It was only their third time having sex, only the first time that it was preceded by anything remotely resembling a date, and Archie had single-handedly destroyed any chance of this turning into a relationship with one fell swoop.

He took a deep breath, tried to calm himself down. His feelings weren’t the important ones right now -- Gold’s were, because Gold was the one who’d been hurt during sex and Gold was the one who’d locked himself inside the bathroom to hide. Archie swept his hands through his hair, wiped sweat off his forehead. He’d never seen Gold vulnerable in any way before, even during sex, and his mind kept circling back to the look on Gold’s face, the pinched arc of his eyebrows, the wrinkle in his nose, the pained look in his eyes.

“OK,” Archie whispered to himself. He stood up and grabbed his pants off the floor, slipped them on, headed to his dresser where Gold, always fastidious, had carefully folded his own clothes before getting in bed. He carried them -- the pinstriped trousers and pink silk shirt -- over to the bathroom, where he knocked once, gently, and waited.

“Gold?” he called when there was no answer. “Are you OK?”

He strained his ears and thought he heard Gold moving around, but couldn’t be sure. The other man was always so quiet in everything he did. 

“I brought you your clothes,” Archie said, “if you want to get dressed. I’ll just hand em to you, you don’t have to talk to me or anything if you don’t want.”

He had to wait for an eternity, but there was no way Archie wasn’t going to stand his ground. Eventually, when his legs were getting stiff from standing in the same position, the lock clicked again and the door cracked open. Archie held the clothes out and withdrew his hand from the open space when he felt Gold take them away. The door closed again, but Archie could hear the other man getting dressed, the soft rustle of clothing, the sound of feet sliding on bathroom tile.

Then there was silence again, until Gold spoke up from the other side of the door, his voice calm and low.

“I’m not upset,” he said as Archie leaned closer, forehead pressed against the cool wood of the door. “I just …”

“Needed a moment?” Archie guessed. There was a mild pause.

“No,” said Gold. “Just …”

He couldn’t seem to finish the sentence. Archie heard him sigh, a frustrated, nearly silent sound. 

“Can I open the door?” Archie asked. Gold gave a toneless hum, but the doorknob turned and soon they were standing before each other, Gold looking smaller than usual, half-dressed and bare-footed. Archie could smell vomit, faintly, in the air, and he looked at Gold questioningly just as the other man pushed past him, back into the bedroom.

He watched Gold gather up his socks and shoes, sitting down on the edge of the bed to put them on. Archie stayed where he was, not looking away, even as Gold studiously ignored him.

“Are you going?” Archie asked. He watched Gold’s movements cease, watched Gold go unnaturally still, shoulders ever-so-slightly hunched.

“If you want me to,” said Gold, his voice even, betraying nothing. Archie’s heart softened impossibly at those words.

“I don’t want you to,” he said, relieved, and then hastened to add, “It’s _your_ _choice_ if you want to, obviously, I’m just saying -- you know, if you’re gonna decide based on my opinion, you know, I’d like you to say.”

Gold was looking at him, his eyebrows raised, but then he looked back down and kicked his shoes away, deciding not to put them on after all.

“I’m sorry I hurt you,” said Archie, unable to keep the apology from tumbling out his lips. He flushed violently, and Gold avoided his eyes.

“It’s fine,” he said. “I could have handled it better.”

Tentatively, Archie crossed the room and took a seat next to Gold on the bed. Their shoulders touched, and for a moment Gold leaned into the touch. Then he straightened up and shifted a little bit away, his eyes flickering around the room.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Archie said. His voice was gentle, not giving away any of the incredulousness he felt that Gold would ever take the blame for something like this. “If I ever do anything to hurt you or make you uncomfortable, it’s your right to stop me, Gold. You don’t have to feel bad for telling me I’m doing something wrong.”

Gold looked down, his cheeks dusted a light pink. He looked like he was struggling for words, and Archie waited, gave him time to speak.

“You were enjoying it,” Gold said eventually. He looked away abruptly, turned his head so that Archie couldn’t see his face. “I tried not to say anything, or let you know, so you could at least … you know … finish. But I --” He sucked in a deep breath, clasped his hands in front of his mouth. Archie could see his eyes again. “I’m sorry,” Gold said, staring resolutely into space. “I tried to concentrate on the wallpaper. But it didn’t really help for very long.”

“Gold,” said Archie, and then hesitated. He hadn’t anticipated having this conversation tonight … or ever, with Gold. It was a conversation he saved for patients recovering from abuse. “It’s not your job to make me feel good, OK? Especially not when it makes you uncomfortable. That’s not how relationships work. If one person has to sacrifice their comfort, then it’s not going right, you know what I mean? That’s how  _ abusive _ relationships work. No one has the right to have  _ painful _ sex with you.”

“I know,” said Gold, his voice barely above a whisper. Archie leaned forward, trying to make eye contact as much as Gold was trying to avoid it.

“I don’t know how it’s worked in your past relationships,” said Archie, “but in this one, no one is going to take advantage of you. You’re just as important in this relationship as I am. You’re allowed to voice your thoughts. You’re allowed to say no to me and argue with me. It’s not wrong and I’m not going to get angry at you for it, I promise.”

“Stop talking, please,” said Gold, unfolding his hands so that they covered his face. Archie bit back his next words.

“Why?” he asked instead, voice gentle, confused. He heard Gold take in a breath and exhale in a huff.

“Just stop,” he said. Archie nodded, taking a shaky breath of his own.

“OK,” he said. He slung an arm around Gold’s shoulders, hoping that wouldn’t be overstepping his boundaries. Gold leaned into him instantly, though, hiding his face in Archie’s side, and Archie could feel the tension in him, the slight trembling. They sat like that for minutes, and Archie tried to ignore the ragged breaths and sniffles that he heard. He didn’t think Gold was crying, exactly, but he knew the other man wouldn’t like attention to be called to it.

Archie had no way to tell the time; it felt like half an hour passed before Gold pulled away. They separated without any awkwardness; Gold headed for the door, and Archie didn’t try to stop him, knowing instinctively that Gold was just heading to the kitchen for a glass of water.

He closed his eyes, inhaled deeply through his nose, and replayed the last hour or so in his head. He felt like he’d learned far too much information about Gold all at once -- too much to process, really. He rubbed his face hard, trying to grind away the sweat and, admittedly, a few tears.

He needed a shower.


End file.
